


War Is Hel

by misreall



Series: Admitting No Impediment [3]
Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: AU of an AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-18 22:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9405854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall
Summary: The AU of my already AU story goes on.





	1. A Hel of a Thing

**Author's Note:**

> The AU of my already AU story goes on.

Nora hated court.  
Hated it with such a fiery passion that Loki had joked he was very nearly jealous.  
Twenty years of marriage and living (mostly) on Asgard had not changed her view of it as a useless, dull waste of time that was also highly embarrassing. And uncomfortable, since it was also the one time she couldn’t get away with wearing what she still considered to be her own clothes.  
Her ceremonial costume of an Asgardian princess had layers of filmy green silk skirts and tiny slippers, which meant her legs and feet were always cold. On top, there was a kind of for show only bit of gilded russet leather breastplate with matching vambraces, which meant she was also sweating under her breasts and her forearms itched.  
Her crown (which Loki had designed) was made of gold chased with copper and emeralds, and had two peaks on either side that gave her the look of an alert, mildly amused, fox.  
It also gave her a rotten head-ache. And made her feel incredibly stupid. As did the perfectly fake posture and serene expression she had to ape during the whole, endless ordeal.  
But even if she had been wearing her most comfortable, ancient pair of sweats, sitting with her feet up and eating popcorn the whole time she would have hated every passing second of ceremony, speechifying, and grandiosity.  
Loki, of course, ADORED court, even more so now, he said, that he could literally feel her rage building during the entire ordeal.  
“I can practically smell how irked you are, my lovely princess,” he would murmur when they were finally back in their quarters, nuzzling her jaw and kissing the sweep of her cheekbone and into her hair. “You smell like a fire in an apple orchard.”  
Today was a prime example of everything hateful about court.  
Odin was away – Nora wasn’t sure where, the King was pretty flighty – so Thor was running a ‘small’ Regency court with about a thousand or so attending. He sat in the big chair, back straight, hair flowing, looking like a king. Frigga sat on his right and Loki on his left, both close enough to whisper to him. Nora sat next to Loki.  
She looked at her family – and that was still very fucking weird to her, that these magnificent, haughty-panted creatures were her family. All of them gorgeous, as comfortable in their formal, vaguely martial attire as they would be in bathrobes and fuzzy slippers. Probably more so. All sitting with perfect posture and aristocratic head tilts and looks of stern thoughtfulness. Even Thor.  
Nora, she knew, not so much. Idun’s Apples could make you ageless, strong, and extend your life to a ridiculous degree, but did not zap one into regality.  
Thor had been speaking, and speaking, for what had to be nearly an hour, talking about…. Actually, Nora had no idea. Something to do with a harvest, or maybe kittens, or possibly the upcoming kitten harvest, she had zoned out shortly after Frigga had bestowed some kind of award to a very over-dressed man who had … killed something? Or didn’t kill something? Or stopped something from killing something else? If it was Asgard and someone was getting an award there was probably killing involved.  
God she hated court.  
She noticed Thor had trailed off and was staring to the side of the dais. One of the messengers who carried intelligence from Heimdall was standing to the side, holding a piece of paper, looking nervous, and gesturing.  
Thor noticed the restless silence in the court. “Um, yes. I beg your indulgence good people,” he stood, and then motioned towards the throne, “Mother?”  
Frigga, looking as serene as ever, nodded graciously and took the throne, continuing where Thor had left off, while he bustled off in an un-kingly manner.  
Nora tried to catch Loki’s eye, but he was staring at Thor while pretending to listen to his mother.  
After a few minutes Frigga, too, trailed off as now the messenger and Thor were both motioning for her to join them.  
What the hell?  
Frigga smiled warmly at the assembly. “Now my youngest son, the king’s most valued advisor Prince Loki will …” she wavered, “ um… advise you, our beloved subjects, on … another matter.” She stood and nodded to her son to take the throne, and glided toward Thor.  
Loki, deep amusement warring with concern, took the throne.  
He did that thing where he sat with his legs open like a filthy whore, the size of the throne allowing him a really good spread.  
Nora loved it when he did that.  
She also remembered the time he had snuck her into the throne room, shortly after their more formal wedding, and had her on the throne.  
Nora was glad she wasn’t a blusher.  
With his most soothing, seductive, persuasive tones Loki distracted the assembly that was growing restless with this strange turn of events. Nora kept side-eyeing him and Thor and the Queen (giving herself a headache in the process). What the fuck?  
And, as if someone had looked into her worst nightmares and plucked one out to make real, she saw Frigga motion for Loki.  
Her husband, her beautiful, devoted, loving husband, turned to Nora, giving her his most shit-eating grin and said, “And now, good people, your enchanting princess has a few words for you,” he rose gracefully and offered her his hand.  
This. Was. Not. Happening.  
Nora didn’t mind an audience. Being raised by Claire who would periodically pull her on stage at show to sing with her had knocked that shit out of her as a kid. But what was she supposed to do now?  
She grabbed Loki’s hand, squeezing as hard as she could, which, sadly, even with her apple-fortified muscles was not enough to hurt him.  
Her nails, however, were a different story.  
She mentally sent the message ‘kill you’ to him over and over again. She may not have been psychic, but she knew he received it.  
Sitting in the big chair, Nora smiled and scrambled. Shit.  
“So, yeah, I know that, by your standards, I have only been on Asgard a very short time. And while I have gotten to know some of you very well,” she pointed to a few faces in the crowd, “Erlinger, my brother! You still owe me those curling lessons. Solveig, you, me, fika, next week. I’ll make it happen. But I feel like that most of you still just think of me as Loki’s Midgardian souvenir, so how about, while my dear, DEAR new family attends to whatever the fu-, whatever important matter they are attending to, I answer some questions?”  
Nora had such bad flop sweat she was afraid she would slide right off of the throne and land on one of the einherjar.  
The court all sort of stirred and looked at each other, shrugging and looking confused. On Asgard one did not question members of the Royal Family. Even the shortest member.  
From the corner of her eye Nora could now see Sif and the Warriors Three had joined the others and everyone looked… Frigga was clearly worried, Thor and Sif furious, Volstagg irate, Fandral tense, Hogunn just had that same look he had all of the time, and Loki was doing that thing where he rubbed his upper lip with his knuckle. That look meant he was running scenarios in his head and was never a good sign.  
A young girl with red braids tentatively raised a hand, looking hopefully at Nora.  
“Yes, sweetheart, did you have a question?” Nora asked, trying not to freak out. Something was very wrong.  
The girl gave a little curtsey, “Thankyouyourhighness,” she was clearly very nervous, “myfriendstoldmethatonMidgardthereareallsortsoflittletinyrealmsthatpeopleliveinandeachonehasadifferentroyalfamilyandhasadifferentlanguageandnoteveryonegetstogotoschoolandifpeoplegetsicksomeplacesnoonewillhelpthemgetbetterandeveryoneonlylivesonehundredyears. Isthattrue?”  
“It’s a little more compli-“  
Nora was trying to figure out how to answer when Thor returned to the dais, hands raised, “Thank you, my subjects.” He bowed to Nora and offered his arm, “Sister.”  
Nora kicked her skirts out, trying to keep up with Thor’s stride.  
As much as she wanted to tear into Loki, clearly something was wrong. He reached out and took her hands, “I am sorry, my treasure, but terrible matters made this unavoidable. The All-Father has fall out of Heimdall’s sight. And the dark and light elves are massing troops on their frontiers. There may be war.”

Loki woke alone.  
It was still dark, hours before dawn when he would be leaving for the front.  
“Nora?”  
“Over here. Couldn’t sleep.”  
Which made tonight no different than any of the others for the last week since it had been decided that Loki would join Thor to help him sort those diplomatic matters that were beyond him. Namely all of them.  
Loki donned a robe that swept the floor of his huge chamber and joined Nora where she was sitting by fire, a writing on a lap-desk. The fire only exacerbated the sight of the deep, bruised circles under her eyes. She had lost weight, so her features were just a series of hollows. He sat next to her and stroked her cheek.  
“You need to eat, and sleep, fjársjóður.” Like himself, his Nora had a prodigious, some might say disturbing appetite, but of late she only toyed with her food, turning slightly green at the sight of most of it. He had even sent servants to Chicago to obtain her favorite delicacies – Milagro tortilla chips and fresh pico de gallo, pork chop sandwiches with extra mustard. He had even brought the ancient proprietress of a certain tiny Korean restaurant to make a variety of breakfast foods, all of which were picked at.  
“Right.” She ignored him, still writing. He knew she was furious about his going. About Thor having gone. About the war entirely. He imagined from her point of view it did not make sense.  
“I have thought of a way you might better understand the point of this…exercise-“  
“War.” She said, still not looking up.  
“War. Yes. In past centuries on Midgard the Aztecs held what were called Flower Wars, xōchiyāōyōtl, which were a sort of ceremony as well as a battle. The ongoing war between the Ljósálfar and the Dökkálfar is like that in-“  
Nora put her pen down and looked at him, “The Flower Wars, and I know what they are by the way you condescending ass, were to placate the gods. The gods didn’t fight in them. Here, give this to Thor, I’m going to take a shower.”  
She tossed what she had been writing at him and stalked off to the distasteful contraption he had added to his bathing room for her.

 

Dear Thor,  
Please excuse Loki from War today. He is far too healthy and I am far too sane for him to engage in this vanity project of yours. You should excuse yourself, too, while you are at it.  
No Love,  
Nora

 

Nora sat on the chair next to the massive shower and tried not to cry.  
For days she had barely been able to look at her husband. Every time she did she saw him bleeding, torn, dead. He was leaving in hours and, no matter how he might dismiss the possibility, she might never see him again, and instead of spending every precious second with him she had been a depressive, sulky child, literally getting sick with anxiety.  
“Nora,” he had followed her, and now knelt in front of her, “I know that you are angry–“  
She threw herself onto him. Her mouth found his neck, his jaw, his mouth, and she drowned herself in the taste of salt and skin and the smell of cold juniper and incense and stone that were his alone. She pulled open her robe and rubbed as much of her skin on as much of his as she could.  
Loki’s hands found her hair and he grabbed two long handfuls, holding her so he could pillage her mouth like the universe’s most lazy pirate. “Are you soaked already, princess?”  
“You know I hate that.”  
He tightened his grip. “But are you? Princess?”  
“I’m dripping.”  
He laughed into her mouth, “Show me.” He let her go and lay back on the marble floor, his robe gaping open.  
Nora stripped and climbed on him, straddling his stomach and grinding. He moaned and writhed under her, grabbing her hips and spreading her wet across his chest. “Come on me. Let me feel your cunt convulse. Drown me.”  
Nora looked into his beautiful eyes and then slowly ran two fingers down his chest until she was touching herself instead and circled and rubbed her clit. Loki reached up and covered her breasts, his fingers on her nipples mimicking her touch.  
They had not made love, or fucked, since he had announced he would be joining his brother, the longest time they had gone without each other since they had married, and Nora didn’t last long. She stopped rubbing and began to tap herself while her hips lifted up and down, slamming her open cunt against her husband’s body, finally falling on him with a cry of miserable pleasure.  
Loki quickly rolled them over, and he lifted one of Nora’s legs over his shoulder, pushing the other far to the side and slid into her while her orgasm still pulsed.  
Nora wanted to say, “Stay with me, and we can do this all of the time, stay with me and we’ll never leave our bed, just stay with me,” but she refused to. Loki might play dirty, but she couldn’t. She knew he couldn’t stay, not really, and she knew he would never forgive himself for seeming to choose anything over her, so she couldn’t make him.  
Instead she gave herself over to him, and came again and again, accepting the one thing he could give her tonight.

By the second week of the war Nora was so worn out with trying to not seem worn out she was ready to cry when she saw Frigga striding towards her.  
Even so she also found herself still a little in awe of her mother-in-law. Damn that woman could take a hallway like a supermodel took a catwalk. It was clear where Loki got it from.  
“Daughter,” Frigga took her arm and led her to a small balcony (the palace had a ridiculous number of balconies), “there is important news.”  
Seeing the look on Nora’s face, and its unusual color, she hastily added that no one was dead.  
“This news is not directly related to the war.”  
Nora’s brain went into overdrive, “Oh, man, has Amora kidnapped Loki again? I am going to snatch that bitch bald- sorry, I mean –“  
“No, she has not-“  
“She kidnapped Thor. No, Lorelei did! When is she going to figure out that they are over?”  
“Neither the Enchantress or her sister is involved-“  
“Someone put a spell on Loki again where he thinks he’s evil. No, that can’t be it, he always kidnaps me when that happens. There is a lot of kidnapping on Asgard, actually. No, they found Odin, but he’s asleep again-“  
“Nora!” The queen took her hands and stared into her eyes, “No one has been kidnapped, enchanted, and my husband is still wandering.”  
“Then what?”  
Frigga told her.  
Nora’s put a hand to her mouth, her eyes bugging, “Oh, Hel!”


	2. In a Handbasket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the glorious Caffiend for a record beta turnaround.

Loki hated this war.

Not war in general. Growing up on Asgard, and his own Jotnar heritage, meant he had bloodlust to spare. The clash of armies, the glory and the gore, all spoke to him, it sung in his sinews. But, because he was different than both his adopted and biological peoples, not all of the time. That alone had marked him as different from an early age. 

At first Loki had thought that his feelings were simply reflecting Nora’s, as well as his own desire to be with her. But no, even if he had still been as he had been before she had careened into his life this would be the dumbest war he had ever been a part of.

The King of the Light Elves, Hreemir, was normally a reasonable creature, preferring peace when possible, but the latest enormity from the Black Court – something involving the taking of a Ljósálfar colony world – seems to have driven him mad. Loki could not understand why he was so upset, the two courts routinely traded planets. A conquering here, an invasion there. It had been this way for millennia.

The Black Queen Alfyse on the other hand, was being painfully reasonable and accommodating, offering all sorts of practicable solutions to this current predicament. She was even willing to give up two other worlds that Loki knew for a fact were coveted by the Light elves. The only thing she was unwilling to concede was the colony planet in question. Loki knew her of old, and her sweet equanimity was as distasteful as it was false.

Clearly there was something on the colony world that was of value but neither side was willing to admit to it before their allies. Which meant it was either very dangerous or-

No or, it had to be something dangerous.

Ten hours of Loki at his most persuasive had failed to bring either side closer to the center and there would be another pointless battle in the morning.

Returning to his tent, Loki ignored the invitation from Thor to feast with him that night. He was nearly as tired of feasting as he was of fighting, words he never thought to think in this life. He just wanted his own bed with his own wife in it.

 

Nora ran back to their quarters and started shucking clothing and calling for her armor. Unlike Loki she couldn’t just sort of poof it onto her body. Normally she refused to let her handmaidens help her dress, but the straps and buckles took forever if she tried to do it herself. 

Even though Loki had insisted on her learning to fight Nora had yet to ever be in a real fight, just lots and lots and even more sparring. And she really didn’t want to be in one now, but she refused to show up to a war without protection.

When the last piece was on, her sword at her waist and her shield in hand she ran again. 

Loki had tried to train her himself, which had been a miserable failure. He couldn’t concentrate when she was sweaty and red-faced, and beside which he was too tall and had too great a reach for his fighting style to work for her. Sif was just not a good teacher, Frigga was too busy, and everyone else on Asgard was too flat out terrified they might accidentally smudge the new princess and have to deal with Loki afterwards.

Finally, during one of their not frequent enough visits to Earth, Loki came up with a solution that delighted Nora so much she actually hopped up and down with joy.

Captain Rogers was not only an excellent teacher, being patient and remembering only too well what it was like to be surrounded by a world where everyone was bigger than you, but surprisingly funny. 

Of course, it took a while to get him to stop calling her “your highness,” and “princess.”

“Listen, the man who saved my grandfather in France is NOT calling me your highness, Captain. You are Captain Freaking America, and I am just someone who stepped in front of the right car at the right time.”

Steve had given her a wry smile, “Alright, Southside, keep your left up.”

None of that had stopped the tabloids from getting a Pap shot of the two of them and plastering their covers with clever headlines like “Captain America V. Princess Asgard” and “Chicago To Brooklyn : A Right-Hook.”

When Nora reached Heimdall, Frigga was already waiting there, “Daughter, this is not a good idea.”

“Don’t care. Heimdall, I’m ready when you are.”

“Nora-“ the queen put a hand on her arm.

“Are you ordering him not to open the bridge? Mom?” She looked into the Queen’s beautiful eyes with all of the hope she could muster.  
Frigga laughed a bit. “You fight as dirty as Loki. Heimdall,” She turned to the golden idol of a man, “open the bridge. Be careful, Nora.” She kissed her cheek.

Nora gave a grin. “I will be the most careful person to ever visit a war.”

 

The Dark Elf army overran the Light Elf camp just before dawn. 

Loki could hear Thor cursing his paining head over the clash of the cavalry vanguard using a wave of magical fire to smash through the pickets that had been set and fortified by enchantments. It should not have worked, but King Hreemir had constantly been pulling his own thamaturges back to perform unnamed magicks that he swore were essential nonetheless.

Apparently more essential than actually guarding the encampment. 

It was a bloody debacle. Loki grabbed his spear and dagger, snarling at the inanity, armoring coalescing around him.

He lashed out with a spell that pushed the metal spirt of his blade into the chest of a rider, swinging himself into the saddle and cutting left and right on the dancing mare, leaping over tent ropes, campfires, and the detritus of war until he reached his beleaguered brother.

The horse had been well-trained, but the Dark Elf Army did not respect their animals and there was no special bond between animal and rider, so it was easy for Loki to use her martial training. Thick in the crowd around Thor, he slashed while his mount took huge bites out of other horses, causing Dark Elf riders to be thrown, landing often as not on the swords of their own infantry.

Thor had finally tossed away several Dark Elvin knights who had decided that the only way to take him down was to swarm him before he could call Mjolnir. The foolish bastards had no idea that the only time Thor was more dangerous than when he was sober was when he was suffering from the horrors.

Knights flew in every direction, one of the knocking over Hogun who simply bashed his head to undistinguished matter with an easy upswing of his mace.

Mjolnir was a streak out of the corner of Loki’s eye, reaching Thor’s hand. His brother gave a genuinely chilling laugh and swung, turning bone to powder and flesh to meat. 

Loki found Sif as she shield bashed an entire infantry line by herself. The soldiers were so startled by the move they just bunched back on themselves, giving Thor an easy target for his lightning.

Regardless, if they didn’t get the pickets closed the rest of the Dark Elf army would just overrun them by numbers alone.

Sif was the best rider he knew, other than himself.

“Sif!” Loki jumped down from his stolen mount, “Sif! Take her and ride to that cretin that pretends to be a king and tell him if he doesn’t bring his mages back now there won’t be an army for them to protect.”

“But-“ she gestured helplessly at the battle.

“I promise there to be plenty of lovely madness and murder waiting when you get back. But be swift!”

She nodded and he tossed her into the saddle and she sped away, hacking from side to side all the while.

As ever, the battle came to him more like a series of tableau. A small group of archers from Vanaheim created a barricade out of fallen horses and were peppering an elite squad Dökkálfar voltigeurs at will. A group of dwarven shield-maids advancing on yet more cavalry in a very nice turtle formation. They couldn’t kill the other fighters, but they had them blocked at an important point between two sets of earthworks.

At one point Loki and Fandral found each other in the battle and fought back to back until they were swept apart by a change in the tide.

Finally the Horns of the Light Elvin King’s personal guard sounded.

Loki gave himself a moment to breathe, knowing things were far from over but that at least now there was a chance.

He was stunned when he heard and saw the unmistakable evidence of the Bifrost opening behind him. 

There was no way that Thor had had time to send for reinforcements, was there?

He and his brother ran towards it, sharing a silent look of confusion. But there was only one figure standing when the light departed.

Nora. Looking more than a bit surprised to find herself in the midst of a melee.

Loki’s heart stopped. His brain was inert. Frozen. Which might have struck him as funny at another time. But only his legs were working. And his mouth.

“No no no no.”

A group of Landsknechten in the hire of the Black Elves was near the clearing where the bridge had opened and saw what was clearly a high ranking someone from Asgard alone. The brigands were probably sizing up the price they would get for his darling’s armor even as they rushed towards her. 

Loki would have given the rest of his life to have that fucking horse back.

Nora, smart girl, started running.

Thor saw what Loki saw and started Mjolnir spinning for what was to be the last thrill of the mercenaries’ lives.

Nora disappeared behind a roiling mass of fighting bodies. As he ran to them, simply throwing every spell, dagger, and curse he had at enemy and ally alike he could hear her. 

“Listen,” bash as her shield-edge took a fighter’s jaw and knocked his helm off, “I am really not here for this.” Squish and scrape as the spike on her shield boss found an undefended knee joint, “I won’t attack you if you don’t-“ Clang as she finally pulled her sword out to parry a pike thrust.

Thor cannonballed into the crowd, taking out the last of the bodies between Loki and Nora.

He was so furious, so wild with terror his voice just barely rasped out as he grabbed her arms and shook her like a doll. “Are you mad? Is Heimdall? I am going to kill that golden-eyed fucker.”

Nora reared back. “Fucker? I’ve never heard you-“

Just then the battle found them, and while Thor took it as his personal duty to sweep away anyone who got too close to them the noise was impossible.

“Why?!” Loki screamed at his wife.

Nora said something back, looking urgent.

“What?”

She yelled again, still he couldn’t make it out. Something about her…

Then, as will sometimes happen in the loudest place and for no reason that anyone have ever understood, there was a perfect lull of silence just as Nora screamed. 

“I’m pregnant!”


	3. A Hel Of A Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks and Love again to the divine Caffiend.

Ah. Clearly then this was just a nightmare, Loki thought. That was a relief.

He was not actually standing in the midst of a raging battle with Nora, her tiny, Midgardian body laughably protected by the green and russet leather armour he had crafted for her himself. She was not using her shield to block an overhand blow from a goblin wielding a zweihander that his idiot brother had let get to her.

“Would you get it together?” Nora yelled at him, grunting at the impact of the sword, her boots digging into the wet earth and skidding backwards. “Yo, Midgard to Loki!”

Something about that detail of Nora’s outdated slang brought Loki back to reality.

No, this was not a nightmare. Or at least not the sleeping kind. Nora had just screamed to the whole of two assembled armies that she was pregnant and had gone from being just one of a large number of targets to being the most valuable potential hostage for realms about.  
“Congratulations, brother!” Thor bellowed as he bashed the goblin hard enough to turn it into gobbets of flesh and stink. 

“Felicitations, Highness!” Fandral sang out to Nora as he stabbed a swan maiden who had been running up on Nora, hissing, “May your child have all of your qualities and none of Loki’s…well, perhaps his hair!”

Sif had returned from fetching the Elf King just in time for the announcement. She threw herself from the saddle, landing shield and blade out, on top of an entire squad of Dark Elves, shouting, “Take the damned horse,” to Loki.

Loki grabbed the reins and pulled himself up just as Volstagg dispatched enough combatants to reach Nora, and throw her onto the steed behind him.

“Hold tight, and say nothing!” Loki gritted over his shoulder as he spurred the animal towards a small rise, calling Heimdall to open the bridge. He could feel her press herself as hard as she could against him, her arms locked, her smell of apples and rosemary overwhelmed by a fug of fear.

She shook.

Good. For the only time in the twenty years they had been together Loki was pleased that Nora was miserable. 

As the horse thundered towards the bridge, Loki began to chant under his breath, his adrenalin focusing his will and the words, knowing this spell would only work once, and as they reached the Bifrost the light from it bent, sending them away from both the battle and Asgard.

 

It hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea when she first had it, Nora thought. Loki himself had told her the night before that there was a lull in the fighting and both sides were at the table. She should have been able to pop in, see him for a little while, give him the news herself.

Make sure he was happy about it….

Landing in the middle of a battle would have been more terrifying if she had had time to think about it, but close to two decades of drills had apparently worked its way into her muscle memory because she had just started swinging her shield, and it had worked. 

What had not worked so well was the idea that Loki would allay her fears. Right now he was causing some new ones.

The Bifrost had done something strange and rather than the normal dazzling array of light and sound something caused it to curve and then it seemed to fish-tail behind them and they weren’t galloping towards the gates of Asgard, but somehow back away from them again. 

“I think I’m going to throw up.” She whispered against Loki’s implacable, armored back.

“Do not dare.” Nora heard him grit out, shocked that he had heard her.

Damn it, she was pregnant! It was her right to vomit any time, any place she felt like it. But she closed her eyes and held on and tried to think of less nauseating things than space bridges made of disco lights, the reek of the battle they had just left, and unexpected pregnancy itself.

There was a whump and a rush of air, and Nora tentatively opened her eyes. 

They were somewhere nearly desolate, with mountains, and a river, and a few shaggy goats. “Where are we?”

Loki dismounted and reached up and carefully placed her down, not looking at herLongyearbyen,” he answered unhelpfully, taking the horses reins, leading it towards a long, low wooden house with a huge stone chimney and what was either a very big garage or a very small stable.

“Which is?” She scurried to keep up with him. Nora hated scurrying, but she did nothing but that on Asgard.

“Norway.”

He still hadn’t looked at her. And now he had her in the middle of nowhere Norway for unknown reasons. “If you’re planning to kill me and dump my body you could have just tossed me off the ho-“

Loki whirled to face her, his face contorted with rage the like of which she had never seen. For the first time it occurred to her why some other people may have found him scary now and then. “Your life, our child’s life, may have no value to you, but do not presume the same of me! Go into the house and I will be with you after I have attended to this poor animal. And if you think this is a good time to make a horse joke I promise you the spanking of your life for it.”

Nora put her hands on her hips, “Sorry, what? Because I would say you and what army, but you just left your fucking army on Whateverthefuckitisheim, so just try it buddy. Just try it.” Refusing to stomp away Nora gave a rough stab at a ‘kiss my ass’ sashay instead.

Once inside the house – a beautiful, rustic tribute to Scandinavian design and animal murder based on the number of heads hanging on the walls – Nora really wanted to take her armor off, but the last of the adrenalin had burned out of her system. She dropped the shield, and managed to unbuckle her sword belt, but couldn’t get any further.

Twenty or so minutes later Loki stormed in, ready to have it out, but froze at the door at the sight of Nora, still fully armored, wrapped in a bear-robe, trying to light a fire with hands that shook so badly she had nothing but a small pile of broken matches to show for it.

Hating herself for it, Nora pointed at the fireplace, “Please?” She could never remember being so cold. Cold inside.

The fire roared to life, and before she could react, Loki was sitting beside her, “Let me serve as squire, princess, you will be warmer.” Gently, slowly, as he might with a frightening animal Loki stroked her hair, and when he reached the back of her neck easily undid the buckle on her gorget, and suddenly she could breathe more freely.

Long, elegant fingers found their way to each strap and hook, carefully undoing the pauldrons, then vambraces, then sliding her coat of plates to the floor in a clatter of hardened leather and rivets. The greaves were hooked to it, and she had to stand, and he went to one knee, reaching behind each leg to release her. Finally the last bit fell away and Loki cautiously offered a hand. 

The stench of her body and fear now that she was only wearing a gambeson and leggings was overwhelming and Nora ran to the door to throw up, not having figured out where the bathroom was yet.

Loki held her hair. Because that was what he did. 

“I’m sorry,” she managed, trying to stay turned away from him so he wouldn’t have to endure her unholy stink. “I know you didn’t want me there. But I found out, your mother told me, and I just I had to tell you. I just wanted to be with ou. I thought it was –“

Rather than pull her to him, he pushed himself against her, holding her, rocking her lightly, “Oh Nora, I am the one to be sorry. I have never known such fear as I did just now, seeing you surrounded by death. And then to hear what you said, in such a place, at such a time.”

“So you don’t mind?”

Loki went perfectly still. “You think I could? How could I mind? Anything that brings more of you into the universe is a dream for me.”

Now she went still, “Oh. More of you too. Um, which was the other issue. The other maybe problem. There is the question of which you, actually. Your mother said that the healers were concerned that, because of the shifting and what not,” and now she was speaking very quickly, “that we need to find out what you were when she was conceived.”

“She?” He whispered to her hair.

“She. Your mother said she was a she. Your mother ALWAYS knows.” 

Loki nodded. 

“Anyway, if you were in your Asgardian form there is no problem, but if it was one of the times we were going au natural the baby could be a bit… big for me… potentially. “

Loki placed one huge hand over Nora’s still small stomach, “I promise that I have been very careful during those particular … interactions … to be sure I would not endanger you. There is no question that Princess Claire will-“

Nora’s heart raced, and she started to sob again, “Claire?”

“What else could we call her, treasure?”

She sniffled. “Where is the bathroom?”

“Are you going to be unwell again? Shall I-“

“No, I need to brush my teeth because I intend to kiss the hell out of you.”

 

That night, after Loki had fed her far more than even Nora would normally eat, and bathed her with surprisingly little more than actually cleaning her going on, they lay next to fire, wrapped in robes and reclining on pillows. 

Nora sipped the one glass of red wine Loki would hear of her having. “What is this place? Besides ridiculously lavish for being… well, here?”  
“Thor and I have come hunting on Midgard on and off for hundreds of years. This is our lodge.”

“Why did you bring me here, rather than back to Asgard?”

Loki sat looking at the fire, gilded by the light, and Nora was transfixed for the nine thousandth time since meeting him at his beauty. God, she hoped Claire looked like him. “I know that you are not truly comfortable in Valhalla, even after these years. Even angry, all I could think was of was my little bird wanting her own nest.”

“This isn’t exactly Chicago,” she lay her head on his thigh.

“Well, I was angry, so I did not need you to be perfectly happy.”

He stroked her hair and then grabbed a handful. “Ow!”

“Sorry, treasure,” he leant down and kissed her, “I have to contact Thor.”

“Why?”

“I think I may have just found a way to end this foolish war before it gets out of hand.”

 

The three mirrors reflected Thor (trying to look unconfused), King Hreemir (trying to pretend indifference), and Queen Alfyse (making no effort to look anything but smug). 

“I understand congratulations are in order, Prince Loki,” she purred, toying with the lace that framed her décolletage, “I have heard you have successfully bred you Midgardian pet. I will be happy to take one of the litter.”

Thor made a noise that Loki wished he could send after the Queen, but now was not the time.

“At times I wish that during our time together I had allowed you to impregnate me,” she went on, “but now all of your gifts will be wasted on an inferior child.”

But that time would come.

King Hreemir spat at the Queen, “As if a foul beast like you could understand anything about parenthood, you debauched trull.” He bowed to Loki, “My best wishes for your lovely princess and your child, cousin.”

“I have never thought of myself as being the sort to be a father, actually. Too busy. Too jealous of my Nora’s attentions. But since this dawn I have learned many things about what knowing you are about to be a father does to a man’s priorities. The lengths and depths he will suddenly consider perfectly reasonable to protect what is his.” Loki slowly took a sip of wine, blandly smiling at the king, who blanched.  
“I remember the last time I was in the White Court you had a special friend, a charming woman, Lady Etelmere? Meretela? Lovely, new to the court. I remember your wife took a special interest in her, no doubt because of your deep friendship. She left rather abruptly, had to return home to … why, she was from the very colony that you and sweet Alfyse are contesting over right now, was she not?”

Hreemir’s perfect, pale features turned red with anger.

“Loki-“

Loki lifted a placating hand. “I always thought that it was sad that it so difficult for Elves to breed. Especially the highly born. Sorry, woolgathering. At any rate, I believe we can come to an understanding over this situation today. Alfyse, you will give the Light Elves back their little colony planet. Intact down to the last stick of furniture, herb plant, and Royal by-blow. And in return you will take some insignificant but profitable principalities. And peace will reign and all will be happiness and rainbows!” 

Loki raised his arms, long sleeves dripping from his arms, hiding a small gesture of his fingers that draped Thor and Hreemir in silence, “And if you don’t, pet,” he crooned the last word, “I will tell His Majesty, and the Dwarven King, AND both of my fathers where it is that you have hidden your mother. How long has everyone thought Queen Alfyene was dead? Five hundred years?”

The Dark Queen’s composure only held for a moment. Temperamental creatures were so unsuited to rule, Loki thought.

“My mother… how… you are lying!”

“And you, little queen, speak in your sleep. If you have been given enough of the right wine.”

It took a few hours to work out the details of the treaty, but near the second dawning of Loki knowing he would be a father things had finally been worked out. As he stretched and look up he saw Nora leaning on the door jamb, sipping a far too large for a pregnant woman cup of coffee.

“You know that was pretty rotten of you to do right in front of me,” she said, sipping away as if their future did not reside within her.  
Loki stood, sliding his body along hers, taking the cup from her, “I did think you were asleep. But what was my crime, other than starting a peace?” He asked, quickly finishing the drink before she could snatch it back.

“It isn’t nice to fuck your ex in front of your wife,” she whispered to his skin as she kissed this throat and wrapped a leg around his calf to pull him even closer.


	4. Being in Hel is Anywhere You Aren’t, Except for Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Hurricanerin. She knows why.

“I am going to kill you. You know that, don’t you?  I am going to fucking kill you!”

“Nora, be-“

“If you tell me to be reasonable right now I swear- no, you know what?  Fuck you!”   She grabbed her raincoat and at nearly six months pregnant she couldn’t stalk, stomp, or even especially hurry anywhere, not so much because of the size of her belly but because of the pain in her back and the swelling in her… everywhere….

Nora hated being pregnant.

She hated that she felt like she had to urinate all of the time. She hated that she couldn’t sleep on her stomach.  She hated the mood swings.  She hated that until recently she had been throwing up one minute and then wildly horny the next, now at least the vomiting had stopped.  Now she was just horny, constantly.

And that would have been ok, except more than anything else she HATED Loki.

Who unwisely chose that moment to give a small, and to Nora’s sensitive ears, very condescending laugh, “Treasure, please. Just sit down and put your feet up for a while.  I am certain you will feel better.”

She threw her bag at his head, sending the detritus of her life everywhere but into his face, which was the target she had been hoping for.

“You know what I find suspicious? Hmmmm?  That the healers on Asgard said ‘oh, everything is going to fine, no problems at all,’ until you talked to them privately and then suddenly, without any explanation they are ‘concerned’ and I need to take it easy and be spoiled and cossetted and everything I hate and that you love to do to me.  Why would that be do you think?”

Loki slowly crossed the room, hands up, “That was months ago. Do you truly believe that I would have them lie to you simply as an excuse to indulge in my desire to coddle and care for you?”  He put his hands lightly on her shoulders.

Nora smiled softly into his beautiful face, “Of course I do, you ass,” she murmured lovingly, trying to punch him in the balls at the same time.

Since she had been doing that on a daily basis for weeks, Loki easily caught her wrist and turned her with the swing so she was pulled firmly back against his body.

“My love, you know that you never actually achieve you goal when you attempt to strike me. It is madness to keep trying,” he whispered in her ear.  So she was immediately soaked and swollen between her legs.

Nora sagged in his arms, “I’m sorry. I am losing my mind.  Seriously.  Is this what you feel like all of the time?  Because this is terrible.”

“It is in no way your fault, treasure. Carrying a shape-changer, when one is the very epitome of immutable is bound to upset your equilibrium.  Her very essence is fluidity, no doubt more so now than it will be after her birth.  And you are a fixed star. My fixed star.” 

“I’m just so huge already on top of everything else. I feel like I am carrying an entire house in my uterus.  Of course I can’t be one of those skinny bitches who stay adorable and have a cute little bump.  I’m like an elephant who has been stuffed with an even larger elephant.” 

Loki lifted his hands from her and held them out, “Then it is a good thing that I have such large hands.” Hands that now possessively caressed her swollen stomach, then toyed with her heavy, too sensitive nipples, while his mouth left deep marks on her throat.

She leaned harder on him, stretching her neck and tilting her head to look at his face. From that angle all she could see was the thin leer of his lips and a slight flush on his razor cheekbones.

Her pheromones had gone almost as crazy as her hormones the last few months and Loki had gone from being her gallant, loving husband to a hardened penis with a depraved god attached to it.

“Well? Are you taking me to bed or not?” she grumbled.  Did he expect her to wait forever?

Loki carried her into the bedroom, slamming the door open so hard it rattled the windows and threatened to drop them on the Drive. Nora was so happy to be back home.  If she was going to be insane for months she didn’t want to be doing it in front of the assemblage of space Vikings and Loki’s ex’s that made of the Asgardian court.  “Strip,” he ordered. 

Nora kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her black wool dress, annoyed because Loki was already naked and he could have done the same for her, but lately he enjoyed watching her struggle with her clothing, knowing she was increasingly uncomfortable wearing anything. And that the longer it took her to undress the longer she would wait to put anything back on afterwards.

The bastard in question had seated himself in the throne-esque chair beside the fireplace, his legs spread and his forearms resting lightly on the arms of the chair, leaning bonelessly back. When he saw her looking he gave her the smug, haughty smile she hated the most.  His prick was hugely engorged and a deep, angry red, as if furious that it had not been somewhere within her body for at least three hours.

No, four.

Well, no wonder the penis was upset. It had been ages then.

Nora dropped her bra and panties and climbed on top of Loki, her ankles wrapping under his thighs, and she sliding on to him, enjoying how he writhed and the smugness falling away as he was engulfed by her heat. He grabbed her face and pulled her into a wild kiss and while she was distracted he thrust up hard.

“Bastard…” Nora hissed as he fucked her with steady, deep thrusts that kept her from coming but ratcheted her need higher, holding her by one hip to keep her from rushing things along, his other hand on her cheek so she couldn’t turn away from his gaze. He loved to see her need grow from great, to dire, to agony. 

“Yes, my treasure, my princess, tell me how much you hate me, what a bastard I am for doing this to you,” his voice was like velvet being torn by claws and it worked on her clit nearly as well as his clever fingers. “Call me a bastard and know that I cannot wait to have another child with you.  To have you this way all of the time would be magnificent.”

Nora was going to punch his pretty face off of his glorious cheekbones.

_After_ she came.

“Claire,” she huffed out _, her_ voice nearly gone, “is going to be an only child and I am going to have my mind back, you ceaseless, specious, mongrel, jackass …” she moaned as he increased his pace just the tiniest bit and slid those clever fingers from her jaw, down her neck, tracing softly over her terribly distended belly.

“Did you hear the terrible things your mommy called your daddy?” he whispered, “I hope you inherit her beautiful eyes, but not her filthy mouth. Her filthy mouth that daddy loves.”

He kissed her, mouth open and longing, his tongue delving in and out and stealing her breath.

Then his touch strayed lower, brushing her clit like a feather, his thrusts growing erratic as they both approached their finish. Nora ground against his fingers, wildly thrusting her tongue into his mouth.  He pulled off of her and bit where her shoulder met her neck, sending her into a spiraling orgasm that bowed her back and seemed to go on and on, tiny after tremors making her jerk and spasm while Loki gave one last up thrust, sending himself over the edge just behind where she fell.

 

Afterwards they lay in bed, Nora between Loki’s legs, resting against his chest, his hands softly spanning her stomach.

“You know I would truly never force a child upon you, yes?”

“I can tell when you are just trying to mess with my head, yes.”

“But, if-“

Nora sat up and looked at him, smiling and patting his cheek. “This is going to be _your_ daughter.  She is already taking after you.  Think about what that is going to mean for both of us for the next hundred or more years.  Think about what you were like a little boy, and that she is also going to take after me, and then really think about having two of those.”  She then snuggled against him, enjoying being back to being the sane one in the relationship, if only for a short time.

Loki was very quiet for a long time.

“I see what you mean…”


	5. What the Hel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Nora reminisce about that time they almost didn't get married.

Nora went into labor on their 21st Anniversary.

More to be more exact, on the 21st Anniversary of their State wedding on Asgard.  As far as Loki was concerned they had already been married for close to two months, after his enactment of a traditional Jotunn espousal ceremony.  And in Nora’s mind they wouldn’t be really, truly, utterly joined for another four months, when as part of the two-year honeymoon they drove to New Orleans and her friend Amanda Jane hitched them at a party in the courtyard of the house in the Marigny that Loki had given her as a birthday gift the August before.

They had been celebrating the day by ignoring it. Nora was so vastly pregnant and loathing it that Loki was now spending all of his time treating her like she was a vessel made of spun-sugar and containing a large amount of nitroglycerine, and he was carrying it over a very bumpy road.  In the dark.  While riding a moped.

With one flat tire.

At breakfast Nora had sat glaring the herbal tea the Asgardian midwives had insisted she drink every day for the last few months. It wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she tried to scare it off.  Finally she lifted it and looked at her husband, “Happy Anniversary.”  He nodded without looking up from his paper.  And that was as far as they went, celebration-wise, since it was also the anniversary of the time they came very close to splitting up.

 

_Twenty-one years before, give or take a few days_ ….

 

Under all other circumstances, clothing for the Asgardian royal family were apparently just sort of magic’d into being. Somehow.  But for a royal wedding all sorts of archaic and tiresome rituals had to be observed, including the bride’s dress being made by hand, in a certain style and out of special materials.  A style that didn’t suit her at all and materials that were too heavy for her feeble Midgadian muscle-mass.

In spite of Nora standing on a small dais so she could be seen from every angle while being tucked and pinned, most of the people fussing over her were still taller than she was. Considering how small she had been feeling inside over the past few weeks it wasn’t helping her frame of mind. 

Nor was the fact that at least one of the handmaidens who was working on the terrifyingly massive dress kept very intentionally sticking her in her right side and thigh. Whenever Nora flinched it just added to the time it took to finish the fucking thing, and Frigga would make a slightly annoyed and disappointed noise.   The Queen insisted on personally supervising every aspect of the ceremony and there weren’t enough hours in her day.

An Asgardian woman wouldn’t even notice something as minor as a pin-prick, Nora thought.

When it happened again she kept herself very, very still. She did however finally look at the smirking girl kneeling at her feet.  Gorgeous, of course, with masses of golden hair, sloe-eyed, and with a figure that if she hadn’t already been part of Norse mythology could easily have been part of Greek. 

And, of course, another of Loki’s former special friends.

When they finally finished with the gown and it was carefully removed from her, Nora saw the bruises and pin-pricks on her leg, which was even scrawnier than normal, since she had been stress not-eating since arriving in the Realm Eternal.

“Great, I look like a junkie with the shakes,” she muttered, pulling her pants back on.

“Your, erm, Grace,” the prick-y handmaid sneered at her, “the All-Mother is awaiting your presence in the ante-chamber so you might share an escort to the throne room.” Or, translated to English, “Hurry your whore-ass up, you trashy bitch, actual important people are waiting on you.”

“Thank you, Gerda, was it?”

The handmaid bobbled a very tiny curtsey.

“Gerda. I am going to remember that.   Gerda.  I wonder if I can ask Frigga to make you one of my handmaid’s since I am going to be getting some of them soon,” Nora slapped her on the back, “I cannot wait to see you waiting on me hand and foot.  We are going to have So. Much. Fun.”

Gerda’s glowing, porcelain complexion turned chalky. She didn’t need to worry.  Nora wasn’t planning on having any handmaidens.  She was done with servants, soldiers, and everyone-both-figuratively-and-literally-looking-down-her, done with fucking Asgard as a whole.

Frigga was going over a number of specifics for guests from the various Realms as they walked, her amanuensis making notes. On either side of them marched the Einherjar that formed the honor guard that all members and future members of the royal family had to have for the thirteen days leading up to the wedding.  A leftover from when bridal party hostage taking was just another fun part of day to day life amongst the Asgardian elite.

If Nora had possessed warrior skills above the level of a lethargic Pomeranian her guard would have only been maybe four. But since she was useless, or at least felt that way, her guard was a dozen strong, meaning that going anywhere was a gigantic, humiliating production.   They were led by Sif, who Loki had personally asked to look after her, thinking Nora would have been happier with a familiar face nearby.  This, since another wonderful and not at all trying Asgardian tradition was that the bride and groom were not allowed to spend any time alone together before the wedding.

In fact, they weren’t even allowed to be in private rooms together, and she had barely seen Loki in weeks. When they were briefly together at various feasts and pre-ceremony rituals he had been distracted and busy, clearly relishing all of the political opportunities their wedding could afford.

When they were together for those esoteric rites that were mostly performed in languages that Nora didn’t understand, they were always near each other but never allowed to speak privately. Whenever she tried to get him to break a few rules, maybe meet her in secret, Loki would just smile at her and tell her it couldn’t be done.

She was getting sick of his pretty white teeth.

Since no one had found it important enough to tell Nora what she was saying actually meant, it was more than possible she had vowed all sort of ridiculous things. Like to obey Loki.  Or to only drink decaf after noon.  Or to wear pleated-front pants. 

The halls of Valhalla were cold and huge. And the boots of Nora’s honor guard were deafeningly loud.  At least with their blocking on either side she didn’t have to see the quickly covered smirks and scowls of those they passed.  No one was very happy with Prince Loki’s choice of bride.  There were those who felt that any bride who was not Asgardian was an insult to his adopted family.  And there were those who felt that not choosing a bride from one of the other royal families of the Realms was an insult to their allies.  And there were the exes.

So very many exes.

Gerda. Brynhild.  Kaia.  Lene.  Skaldi.  Ulrika. Dag.  Angrboda.  Else.  Els _a_. Solvieg.  Amora and her little sister Lorelei.  Glut.  Dagne.  Sigyn. Freyja.  Borgni.  Audhilde.  Agneta.  Hildur.  Two Keldas.  FOUR Ragnhilds (apparently that having been the Norse equivalent of “Jennifer” back home when Nora was a kid).  Ebba and her twin brother Egil. And about two dozen more whose names she hadn’t found out yet.

Which were just those that were currently at court. Oh, and not including all of the ones from the other Realms, where apparently Loki was much, much more likely to let himself off the leash…

And, as Nora had discovered the night before when two members of the court “accidentally” mentioned it in her hearing, Sif.

Nora looked at the gorgeous warrior with her dark tresses (because you couldn’t call that merely hair), her perky tits, endless legs, and pale, fierce eyes. Who had been so friendly and helpful to her over these last weeks, giving her quiet advice on bits of etiquette and reminders on important people she needed to know.  Who Odin and Frigga both clearly thought so highly of.  And who actually looked like a princess.  A Xena-type warrior princess, but definitely a princess.

Unlike Nora, who looked for all the Realms like the scullery maid had been playing dress-up while the gentry were out for the evening.

Oh, look, they were finally there.

 

Loki waited in the greater throne room for Nora and his mother to arrive so they could figure out the last placement of the guests for the ceremony proper. It was a diplomatic nightmare to figure out the degrees of difference between the various royal families of the realms with the various political leaders of Midgard.  He had been as busy as he was in war, using all of his charm and strategies, and an occasional a bit of magic, to keep tempers from flaring over perceived slights.  It was a delight to play with so many different creatures from such disparate cultures.  He had been enjoying himself immensely. 

But today he found it impossible to care about any of it. One more day and all of this ludicrous ceremony would be over and he could finally be with Nora again.  Alone.  Gloriously, utterly alone. 

The first thing he would do would be to banish all of their clothing to the Void.

The second thing he would do would be to put his mouth between her legs and to consume her like a greedy child given an entire cake, until she swooned.

The third thing he would do would be to wa-

Ah, there they were.

From where he stood near the throne he could see his mother, graciously pretending a patience she no longer possessed, enduring a litany of the requests and complaints from their forthcoming guests. Sif was looking oddly on guard, considering the purely decorative nature of her task _as_ a guard.  Nora was….

Nora was either ready to cry, or about to pull out a hand-cannon and remove his head from his shoulders, based on the look she was gifting him with.

The hierophant from Vanaheim who was standing in for the All-father gave a quick clap, “Your gentle indulgence, my majesties, highnesses, and graces, but if I might importune you to place yourselves where you will be required for the nuptial celebration on the morrow?”

Thor, who had just come running in pursued by his tardy guards, stepped quickly next to Nora, offering her his arm and a bright and joyous smile. Loki could see her hesitate, and then stand on her toes to whisper something into his brother’s ear.

Her words blighted Thor’s smile. Loki saw him give her a quick nod, and attempted to whisper something back to her while shooting Sif a positively frightened look.  Nora shook her head and took his arm, staring towards the throne. 

No doubt she was only tired and disgusted. His Nora was not one for formality or fuss, and their lives had been nothing but for so long now.  Even Loki who loved such things had grown impatient for it all to be done.  If only father had not been so insistent on their following every ritual and rite with an agonizing exactness.  Though Loki knew it was because secretly Odin hoped that he would change his mind and forswear his treasure.

After all, the hand of an Asgardian AND Jotunn prince (even one that was viewed as rejectamenta by the Frost Giants) was a powerful bargaining chip and not one the All-Father had been eager to lose. Over the centuries a number of offers had been made for his hand, including Prince Consort of the Dark Elf Court.  Loki had been betrothed more times than he could remember before he was eight-hundred….

Everyone took their places and Thor led Nora to Loki’s side, where they would approach the All-father together. He tried as hard as he could without moving to get her to meet his eyes.  Her bright gaze was firmly before her, not even offering him the comforting norm of one of her usual side-eyes or annoyed rolls.

During the actual ritual she would take his arm then, but they were not supposed to touch until then, so instead she stood next to him, her arms crossed and her mouth set in a firm line.

How wonderful.

 

Whoever that guy was – Nora was done with keeping track of these people since she didn’t plan on ever seeing them again after tonight – was going on and on about the Gods of the Gods offering their blessing to this union. He had to keep going back and changing parts of it since Nora was not 1. A goddess, 2. Royalty, or 3. Mighty.  It took forever.

She could feel Loki seething at her side, knowing she was pissed about something and him. It was the only amusement she had had in ages, knowing that he was furiously eager to find out what was wrong and talk her around, but unable to say a word to her.   Well, this could only get better.

She made a sub audial ‘hrumphing’ noise, knowing Loki would pick up on it immediately.

The perfect, polished, political Prince of Asgard began to fidget.

When he shifted his weight in her direction she shifted away from him.

His hands squeezed into fists and then released over and over.

She said her part of the vows in a mono-tone, intentionally mispronouncing the names of at least ten of Loki’s ancestors.

Including Bor. Which was really hard to do, actually.

She could feel his body temperature begin to drop.

Nora snorted, trying to stifle a laugh. This was the most fun she had had since they left Jotunnheim.

There was some adjunct fidgeting going on in the peanut gallery as some of the other attendees of the walk-through started to notice something was wrong with the princess-to-be. From the corner of her eye Nora could see Egil, who was part of Thor’s honor guard exchanging a look with his twin, who was attending the hierophant.  Skadi and one of the Keldas were whispering gossip to each other.  Angrboda, who Nora kind of liked, seemed to find the whole thing pretty damned funny, and Nora waggled her eyebrows at her, making the even taller than normal for Asgard maiden double-over and quickly excuse herself.

Yup, all of Loki’s old fuck-buddies were having a good time at his expense. Nice.

Then she caught Sif giving everyone a stern look and suddenly none of it was very much fun anymore.

“Can I go back to my rooms, I don’t feel well. Maybe someone can stand in for me, too,” Nora said loudly.  “Sif can do it.”

There was a murmur through the room like a heavy wind through a forest.

Frigga stepped forward, with a concerned look. “Of course, my dear.  This is probably all very wearying for you.  I hadn’t thought of how delicate you are by comparison to us.  Forgive me.  Guards, attend her grace.  Sif, if you would,” she said, gesturing to Loki’s side.

“Trea-“ Loki started to reach for her, looking worried and a bit relieved that maybe all that was wrong was Nora was tired and sick.

“Don’t touch me!” She jerked her arm away, yelling a bit. Everyone went perfectly silent and still. “Its seven decades of bad luck, isn’t it?” She muttered, “Wouldn’t want to piss off your imaginary deities and break all of these important rules.”  And then she walked off quickly, hoping to be doing a fair approximation of the Asgardian royal stomp, but knowing she probably just looked silly.

 

Loki was irate, and there was nothing he could do for it. At least, not for now.

Thor and Sif both sat looking sheepishly at him as he paced his library, stopping occasionally to try and say something and finding himself for once silent.

“Do we know _how_ Nora found out that you and I once were lovers?”  He finally choked out.

Sif silently shook her head.

When he had asked Sif to look after Nora, direct her guard, and give her council as she might need it, he had truthfully – for once – not even thought of his time in Sif’s bed. It had been centuries before Nora’s birth. They had both been young and eager for strange flesh, and anyone with eyes would know that Sif’s heart belonged to his brother just as his belonged to Nora.

Still, it did now occur that perhaps he might have informed Nora about that time long passed, if only so she would not be caught unaware by the gossiping tongues in the palace.

Who had, according to Thor and Sif’s words, been very busy making certain that Nora was well acquainted with his amatory history. In as much fine detail as could be managed through over-heard whispers and “Ooops, so sorry I blurted that out” statements.

Wonderful.

“I need to speak to her.”

“Brother, we both know that’s impossible. Even if you could make it to her rooms unseen there are guards four deep on the door.  And mother certainly shielded them from teleportation.”

Sadly this was one of those rare occasions where Thor was correct about everything.

In addition, Frigga had no doubt tossed-up a few extra charms to dispel any illusions he might cast so he could go in under another face. It had been what had kept him from visiting Nora prior to this.

“Ummmm…”Sif actually squirmed a bit, as if trying to keep from blurting something out.

“Speak...” he hissed at her.

“You cannot see her here, but you may be able to see her on Midgard. Tonight.”

“What?”

 

Because Nora now had one of the most recognizable faces on Earth – she had out ranked Kate Middleton AND Katie Perry in a recent poll, while still being firmly behind Beyonce – her friends had decided to have her bachelorette party at Loki’s newly purchased Lake Shore Drive penthouse, rather than a club. Nora hated bachelorette parties and all of the crap that went with them, but she had agreed to let Marissa and CiCi plan her one just so it would give her one night away from Asgard.

They had been under the strictest instruction to not have any strippers of either gender, stupid games, or novelty items shaped like penises. No signature drinks in fucked up colors.  Guys were invited too, even straight guys. There was just going to be lots of food and booze and music.

Only.

Christa from Accounting at work did try to get Nora to wear a tiara with feathers at one point. Marissa grabbed it from her hands and flung it out an open window, “Fool, this bitch is going to have a real crown soon, ok?”

“Sorry, I keep forgetting!” Christa burbled, “I mean, Nora’s going to be a PRINCESS! It’s So Weird!  You soooooo aren’t PRINCESS-Y!”  Christa was very, very drunk already

Nora really didn’t like Christa very much, but she wasn’t wrong.

Which was why she wasn’t going to be one.

The idea had been percolating in her brain for days, and when she had finally gotten Frigga to give Heimdal permission to let her go home for the night of her party (sighting it as important fertility ritual among her people), it occurred to her to just not go back.

She didn’t belong there.

Still, she wasn’t going to let her not getting married tomorrow screw up a good party tonight.

It took all of her strength, and lot of distraction dancing, and a corgi-weight in fried chicken to keep herself from getting bullet-proof drunk, but she succeeded. True to their words her friends did not have a stripper, but they did hire a group of modern burlesque dancers and pair of utterly gorgeous contortionists named Nassir and Phil.  At one point they even worked out a routine together that was probably illegal in most of the developing world and was going to inspire an enormous number of hook-ups before the night was over.

Nora clapped and laughed and thought about how much Loki would love the whole night. He would have danced with all of her friends, eaten a Great Dane’s worth of chicken, drunk a case of champagne by himself, and probably taught the contortionists AND the burlesque dancers a few new tricks.

Not wanting her suddenly sad mood to infect the party, Nora snagged a pack of Kools that she had hidden behind a copy of The Importance of Living in the library and went on the roof to burn an offering to Aunt Claire’s memory and try and figure out her life.

The night was beautifully clear and surprisingly warm for December. Nora leaned her elbow, chin in her palm and looked out at the cars on the Drive and the dark mass of the Lake, a thin line of smoke curling over her head.

From the darkness of the roof-top came an even darker voice, “Are you not afraid of setting your hair alight?”

She jumped and very nearly did set her hair on fire. “Jesus!”

“Wrong god, treasure.”

“You never get tired of that joke, do you?” Nora said testily, stubbing out the cigarette.  How lovely of Loki to show up now, when for the first time in weeks she didn’t want to see him.  Of course, thinking about it, that would be exactly when he showed up.

Loki stalked out of the shadow towards her, dressed in a beautifully tailored black silk suit much like the one he had been wearing the day they met. Nora tried to back up but just hit the safety wall, and when he reached her pressed her back into it, kissing her as if he thought he would never see her again.  His thin lips were soft, gentle, lulling her into a false sense of security that his tongue immediately disabused her of.  Plundering…. No, ransacking- possibly even looting her mouth. 

“I am starving for you, Nora,” his voice rasped against her skin as he bit and licked down her jaw and neck. Her body was one giant throb emanating from between her legs, her blood boiled for him, and her skin hurt with wanting him to touch her.

So she shoved him as hard as she could away. Which normally would not be that far, but he was off balance and off guard so the handsome Prince of Asgard found himself on his ass at the feet of his fragile Princess. “What would the court say?” 

Loki sprawled on his back and laughed, “I have missed you so –“

“I’m not going to marry you.”

His laughter stopped, and he was back on his feet, looming over her, “That is not funny, Nora.”

“It’s not a joke.” She started to walk away, “I’m sorry for what is sure to be a few days of embarrassment, but look at it this way, I’m saving you for what probably would be centuries of it in the long run.”

He grabbed her arm and held her perfectly still. Nora could feel him struggling with his desire to squeeze.  “Is this because of the matter of Sif?  I should have told you that once, ages ago, we were briefly entangled physically.  But I can assure you that our emotions were untouched by each other.”

“I know that. Yes, you should have told me.  That was an epically dickish move that you didn’t.  The courtiers who made sure I overheard them talking about it really got a kick out of the look on my face, let me tell you.”

“Who-“ Loki was black hot with rage.

Nora talked over him, “But yeah, she’s clearly in love with your brother. And I know you love me, you ass.”

He sagged a bit but didn’t let her go, “Then why do you want to forestall our Asgardian nuptials? Especially as we are already wed.  Are you … do you mind how many lovers I have had?”  His voice actually drooped at the thought.  Nora reached up and stroked his hair and then pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“No. Of course I don’t care about that!  Fuck, I think I should send at least of few of them a thank you note, maybe a fruit basket while I’m at it.  And we aren’t married, not legally on Asgard, which is what matters.  I might be your wife, but I’m not your- I’m not your princess.  I can’t be your princess.  I’m not qualified.  Out of all of your lovers I am the least suited to be a princess, except technically I suppose Dag and Egil.”

Loki gave Nora a smile that came out just a little too condescending for his own good, “Treasure, my love, I know you are feeling a bit overwhelmed, but when the time comes you will be lovely.”

“I won’t be! I won’t be lovely!  I’m not lovely!  I’m not regal or gracious or graceful.  I can’t do that stupid little nod you all do that means everything and nothing!  I look utterly stupid in the clothes up there!  I can barely walk in my own wedding gown, it’s so heavy.  I can only tell a Light Elf from a Dark Elf by if they are sneering haughtily or smirking arrogantly.  And what do you call the people from Vanaheim?  Vanas?  It’s ridiculous to think that I can do it.  The peasants only marry princes in fairytales.”

“It will take some time for you to learn everything you must for your position, and I am sorry that you have been overwhelmed. I should have insisted on being with you during much of these weeks, I am not the crown prince after all, and protocol and tradition are not so important as you.”  He moved to hold her, but Nora dodged away.

“But they are to you. You love all of this shit.  The politics and the rituals.  I bet you get hard just hearing the word ‘envoy.” Loki shrugged, as if that was obvious.  “I’m not… “

“Few creatures understand feeling inadequate as I do. I can help you –“

“The only person you feel inadequate next to is Thor. He might be the _only_ person I _don’t_ feel inadequate next to.”

They stood silently for a long time, Loki studying her face. Nora felt herself tear up but they never quite fell.  Finally after an endless time he nodded.

“Very well, if it makes you this unhappy we will call off the ceremony.”

“Thank you.”

“I can draft a letter to my father renouncing my active role as prince on the morrow, for an extended period at least. I am a bit too tired tonight.”

“What!?”

Loki smiled at her, and she realized he meant it. “I have been a prince for over a thousand years.  Give me that same amount of time to be your husband and mayhap I can persuade you to change your mind.  I think making you a princess would be my gift to the Realms, even if it takes centuries.”

Gulping back sobs, Nora threw herself around him. One of Loki’s long-fingered hands sank into her hair, holding her face close to his chest.

“If I don’t marry you in court tomorrow I won’t be around in a thousand years. I doubt Odin will consider giving a golden apple to his adopted son’s jumped up girlfriend.”

“I have an apple for you already, treasure. I convinced Idunn to give me one at the beginning of the summer.  I thought to give it to you for your birthday, I but I bought the house instead.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

Once again they lapsed into silence. One silence in a night between the two of them was rare enough, two of them was positively spooky. 

“Um, if I did decide to go through with tomorrow, how far outside of protocol would you be willing to go?”

Nora could feel Loki’s snake smile, the one that meant all sorts of mischief was about to be managed. “Why, treasure,” he purred, “what did you have in mind?”

 

 


	6. It Was a Hel of A Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding, a birth, and some dancing.

_Currently (whenever that is….)_

Nora waddled to the bathroom for the ninth time that morning, her massive size causing the china service on the breakfast table to clank and quake. Everything hurt this morning, even her robe.  The pain was so bad that for the first time in months she wasn’t starving.  Usually after she polished off the revolting and thick herbal crap that the Asgardian midwives insisted on her choking down every day she found herself ravenous.

She was just about to go through the delightful dance of sliding her panties down when there was a popping noise, accompanied by a popping sensation. And then a rush of liquid that was-

“Oh fuck me sideways….” She muttered to herself, and then screamed, “LOKI!” Clutching the edge of sink.

Before she had finished calling him, he was there, an arm around her waist, “I’m here. I have you.  Is it- are you-“

Trying not to hyperventilate she pointed to the pool of slushy fluid at their feet. He could see where it had left a trail of frost where it had sheeted down her legs, “There is no way this isn’t bad.”  Loki’s already ivory pale skin turned greyish green, “Look, I’ve never seen you that colour before!”  Nora pointed to his reflection in the mirror and started laughing, almost hysterical. 

Loki swept her into his arms and ran down the hall to the portal door he had created to take them to Northwestern Memorial’s newly revamped and lavishly funded neonatal unit.

 

 _Basically Twenty-one Years Before_ …

Loki was nervous. And he loved it.

He stood waiting in the small anteroom nearest to the throne room dais, as he had more times since he could remember. Soon his father’s invocation of the Gods of the Gods would finish and his mother would come to lead him in for the ceremony. 

Then, after Frigga’s epithalamium, Thor and Nora would enter for their endless walk towards him.

And all then Hel would break loose.

“I trust not that smile, Loki,” Frigga said, holding out a hand. She looked exceptionally beautiful today, even by her own high standard of radiance.  He did feel perhaps a speck of guilt that she had done so much work for his wedding.

“Why, mother,” he whispered, taking her and pressing a kiss to the back of it, “should a groom not smile when at long last he is able to take his beloved into his arms and publically, in our case extraordinarily publically, proclaim their love?” He gestured out of the curtains where to the various members of the Midgardian media who were practically wetting themselves waiting for the Princess-to-be to show herself.

“That is not the smile you wear, my son. You are wearing the smile you wore as a child that always meant that something was going to happen somewhere at a time that you would be able to account for.  And that Thor probably wouldn’t.”

He shrugged slightly, smirking, and adjusted his horns, “Shall we, All-Mother?” he offered her his arm.

“I know you shall, no matter my thoughts,” she said.

The throngs of waiting dignitaries (and Nora’s family, who Loki had argued against inviting), stopped their susurrus as they entered and Frigga formally presented him to the All-Father. Loki took a knee. Odin stood, and in an extremely subtle and elegant evocation of male fertility, slammed Gungnir into the ground so it stood up on its own between Loki’s legs while he chanted yet another invocation.

Loki breathed an audible sigh of relief, earning him a censorious look from his father. It had been the part of the whole thing he had been dreading the most, as they had not had time to actually practice the maneuver.  The various ways it could have gone gruesomely wrong had coloured Loki’s nightmares for the last few weeks.

Once all of that was over (and he could just picture the hay that the Daily Mail would make of _those_ pictures from the ceremony), and Gungnir was safely away from his dearly beloved genitalia, Loki rose and took his place at the foot of the throne where Nora would join him.  Frigga was already waiting with a circlet of rare herbs and flowers to place on her head.  They had had to make one change to the traditional head-piece when it turned out Nora was allergic to both fern flower and Mímameiðr.  Which Loki found hilarious and drove all of his mother’s priestesses into a frenzy trying to find Midgardian plants that wouldn’t cause his bride to break out in hives and sneeze her way through the solemn ceremony.

They had substituted avocado leaves and gorse, which were quite pretty if not exactly as powerful.

A group of scops began the ancient chant to summon the bride. Loki had never spent much time thinking about music prior to meeting Nora, but now he felt what must be her pain at the monotonic and yet somehow off-key droning.

Far, far away at the other end of the giant hall Nora and Thor appeared, flanked by her honor guard. Even from that distance Nora seemed to glow. Actually, she did glow. Or her dress and the veil that covered her head, no doubt making it impossible for her to see where she was going, glowed.  Both were made of gold that had been spun into thread.  The veil was simple, but the dress was covered in embroidered sigils to offer protection, good fortune, and, predictably, fertility. 

And then there were the endless necklaces of difference precious gemstones, each symbolizing the bride price Loki had paid for her. On in Nora’s case _to_ her, since he refused to give her father as much as a flattened squirrel from under the wheels of his new Bugatti Veyron.

Nora was now the proud possessor of 5,000 cows and sufficient bulls to service them. A castle on Vanaheim, complete with staff and a retinue of guards. A flying horse. Five or six magical rings that Loki couldn’t bring to memory what they did but he was certain were not cursed. A fair trade coffee plantation in Nicaragua along with a novelty mug imprinted with the words, “Fuck Politeness.” An extremely rare phallus-altering dragon from Svartalfheim that he had won tossing knucklebones in a tavern on one his and Thor’s hunting trips. A suit of magical armor that he had crafted himself. One-hundred pairs of cashmere socks.  A Jaguar dealership in London.  Two or three chests of various bits of currency he had acquired over the centuries.  The expected jewelry.  A rare (and ultimately the most difficult item for him to obtain) 45 rpm recording by someone called Robert Johnson singing “Me and the Devil Blues.”  She had actually wept over that item.

And a custom kennel complete with attendants for her aunt’s ancient cur.

Loki had received in return a copy of Lin Yutang’s _The Importance of Living_.  A mix-tape of songs that reminded her of him, crafted by Nora’s own hand.  And a t-shirt that said, “Good Gods Go to Valhalla, Bad Gods Go Everywhere.”

The cotton was wonderfully soft and he was wearing it under his armor right then.

At any rate, Nora’s wedding costume was designed with Asgardian females in mind, and as such his delicate treasure could barely stand in it, let alone walk the enormous distance to the dais without taking a large number of breaks. So the first little change to the ceremony they had made was she wasn’t wearing it.  As she glided gracefully along, dwarfed by his huge brother and her guards, the gold of her dress and veil began to glow in actuality and not just due to the light reflecting from it. 

With each step the glow grew, causing a stir in the crowd. It had been so long since the last formal Asgardian wedding ceremony – close to 2,000 years – that everyone was trying to remember if this was something that was supposed to happen.  Since the honor guard seemed unperturbed there was a general shrugging amongst the guests.

Then the guards began to glow, too. Except for Sif, who appeared to be biting her lips to keep control of a smile.

Sif smiling was NOT normal and the stir of the crowd was turning into a ruckus.

Which was why at first no one but Loki, Frigga, and Odin saw Nora’s wedding dress finish transforming into a green and black garden print silk gown with lovely little straps showing off her even more lovely shoulders. The veil was now a green silk scarf twisted through her braid. 

The necklaces remained. Loki had insisted on that much tradition at least.

They were now close enough that he could see her huge, laughing grin. Now she truly glowed.

And now, too, her attendant guards golden sheen shrank back and revealed a dozen of Nora’s dearest, each dressed in an outfit of black of their own choosing. Marissa.  The New Orleans Clique.  Her brother Sam walking his wolf-dog Brutus.  Andre.  Her aunt’s closest friends Bartholomew and Edie.  Carolyn from her work.  Her beautiful cousin Maura.  Only Sif and Thor remained untouched.  And all of them but those two were strutting down the aisle like it was New York Fashion Week, all them sharing the bride’s giddy amusement and laughter.

Indeed, Thor’s look of shock was the icy Brennivin shot after a mouthful of harkarl. Utterly delicious.

Slowly the scops voices faded away. The old men all tried to sing louder, looking at each other in a panic as their voices grew quieter and quieter and then there was a blessed silence, filled then by the even more blessed voice of Otis Redding singing “That’s How Strong My Love Is.”

Loki carefully removed his helmet, not wishing to extend his already strained magic further in order to fix his hair, and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, “Forgive me?”

Frigga’s voice was a war between horror and amusement, “I have never not forgiven you. Not even for the incident with the pumpkins when you were a child.  Your father, on the other hand….”

“He will get over it. He needs me to manage everything for Thor when he becomes king.  And look at how happy she is.”  Just as the last note of the song ended Nora and Thor reached them.  “Brother, the look on your face was glorious.”

Thor tried to give him a sour look, but instead slapped him hard on the back, “I hand you the rarest treasure you’ll ever brought home, Loki. Do well by my new sister or I will thrash you black and blue.  Or I suppose only blue, in your case.”

“Sorry, mom,” Nora whispered to Frigga, sounding decidedly unrepentant. The All-Mother was visibly controlling her laughter as she struggled to get the circlet to sit properly on the bride’s head.

“I knew if the two of you were together alone for any length of time something like this might happen, but let him ‘sneak’ away to see you last night in spite of it, and so have only myself to blame.”

Nora shot Loki a grimace. Apparently the All-Mother could see what Heimdall could not.

Now Loki was supposed to walk up the nine stairs to the throne, followed by Nora.

Instead he reached for her hand and they walked side by side to face his father.

 

If the great and good of the Nine Realms, and particularly of the Realm Eternal, were scandalized by the changes to the ancient and honorable nuptial ceremony of the Asgardian Royal family there was no word for their reaction to the feast that followed.

They could understand the addition of some Midgardian delicacies, such as bibimbap and Mexican wine cookies. And nearly all decided that there was something to be said for both the wines and ales that appeared in place of the standard mead, mead, and more mead menu of drink options.

But when a group of Midgardian musicians took the place of the usual harp, fife, and drum players, and were then joined by the new princess, who shouted, “Hello Asgard!” and proceeded to serenade her prince for the next hour, most of the guests had a quiet apoplexy.

That was fine. It meant there was more room on the dance floor for Nora’s guests, who eventually lured a few of the braver souls to join them.  Eventually the princess even coaxed the All-Father into joining her for a turn around the floor to “The Tennessee Waltz.” 

(By the next morning the waltz was _the_ newest thing in eight of the nine realms and the most fashionable accessory was an actual Midgardian dance teacher to instruct you.)

When breakfast was being served to those gearing up for the second day of the celebrations, the bride and groom finally slipped away and neither were seen for three weeks. Fortunately no wars broke out during that time, everyone who 

might have started one being far too hung-over and yet pleased to be able to do so.

 

 _Current day (or about eighteen years in the future)_ ….

 

“Your Highness, you need to calm down, I a-“

“If you tell me to be calm again you will be delivering infants in Muspelheim tomorrow, you scabrous hound!” Loki growled at the doctor who was trying to get him to leave the delivery room. They wished to slice Nora open, and the crude barbarians thought he would allow it.

“You aren’t banishing any humans,” Nora’s voice was a broken rasp from screaming and screaming, and Loki was very close to starting himself. She squeezed his already bruised (and possibly partially fractured) hand and he was happy for the mind clearing quality of the pain, “Why isn’t your mother here, yet?”

“I am sure she will-“

Again, for the dozenth time Nora’s hideously distended stomach began to move, as if their child was rolling over and over in her sleep, poking here an elbow, there a foot, and Nora arched off of the chair she had been bonelessly lying on, her scream this time almost inaudible, so badly damaged was her throat.

Maybe he would let them cut his demonic daughter from Nora, since Loki wasn’t certain how much longer any of them could last.

“Your Highnesses,” one of the nurse’s, who was far braver than any of the doctors, spoke, “I understand why you want to avoid a C-section, but it’s been nearly twenty-four hours since labor began, and if something doesn’t happen very soon then things could start to get dangerous for both the baby and the mother, and if we have –“

“Nora.”

“What?” The nurse and Nora said at the same time.

“If there is a choice between our daughter and Nora you will save Nora.”

“Loki, look at me,“ Nora started, trying to sit forward and failing. “You don’t just get to decide-“

“No, this is not a discussion.”

“It’s goi-“

To the immediate relief of everyone, especially the terrified hospital staff, Queen Frigga finally arrived, “I am sorry, my children, for the delay. It was as unavoidable as it was idiotic.  Now, what is the problem that this lavish facility that we created cannot repair?”

“There is something occurring with the babe,” Loki started to explain when Nora’s hand lashed out and grabbed a handful of his hair that she nearly liberated from his head as she again screamed bloody agony, this time passing out from it. “Mother!”

Frigga hastily knelt before her daughter in law and placed a hand to her belly and gently leaned in to place an ear there as well.

“She is in terror, so she is shifting. Every time our poor girl has a contraction the baby falls into panic and changes her form, trying to hang on.  Human, Asgardian, Jotunn, mayhap even earlier, cruder forms of being that are within her blood.  You must help her.”

“How?” Loki was horrified, now wondering if in her terror the baby had damaged Nora in some way they could not see.  Was she clawed?  Had she sharp teeth? Lashing at her mother from within?  His mouth flooded with salt that he had done this, he was killing his treasure.

“Come here,” he placed himself next to her and she took his hand and set it where her’s had been, “Now what do you feel?”

Loki closed his eyes and concentrated. He could feel Claire, still protean, drifting in safety, afraid of the pain and the cold and the light.  He carefully laid his cheek so it just brushed Nora’s skin and tried to remember the time of his life that was before memory, before breath, when he was in the same timeless place.  It came to him in a flash, and he snorted.

“What’s so funny?” Nora’s whispering voice came to him. She had woken at some point, and was stroked the hair she had pulled.

“I know why I am so slight. For a Frost Giant.  When I was being born I was apparently enormous.  Large even for my kind, and the birth was ripping my mother apart.  Killing her and myself.  And I could feel her dying, so I made myself smaller and smaller, trying to save us.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes.”

And remembering his own fear, Loki reached for his daughter’s wordless thoughts with warmth and sympathy, and saved her and Nora as well.

When Frigga placed Princess Claire in her mother’s arms, her little eyes blinked open for just a moment before she clasped her tiny fists over them.

“That’s so weird, white babies usually have blue or grey eyes,” she said, her voice almost gone. “Her’s are-“

Loki leaned down and kissed his wife’s sweat-soaked cheek, “Tea colored, and very bright. I may have made a suggestion to her, while we were communing.”

Nora gave an exhausted snort, and as she drifted off to join her daughter in a nap, “So her father’s black hair, I assume?”

“Of course, and a grin that can fell an ox at fifty paces, just as her mother did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to Caffiend for the loan of Maura and the idea about the dragon.


End file.
